


Forget-Me-Nots

by kiyala



Series: Flowers [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Future Fic, Language of Flowers, M/M, Plants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 04:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6104767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yahaba and Kyoutani move into an apartment together. Between their respective magic, their balcony quickly becomes a lively place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget-Me-Nots

**Author's Note:**

> The flower meanings in this were taken from [Hanakotoba](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hanakotoba). 
> 
> The relevant flowers for this fic are:  
> • Bluebell - grateful  
> • Hydrangea - pride  
> • White Camellia - waiting  
> • Cactus flower - lust/sex  
> • Forget-me-not - true love

The apartment is bare when they move into it, looking much bigger than it was when they viewed it, full of the previous owner's belongings. It's nice though, on the second storey, with a balcony that looks out to a large tree. Yahaba makes friends with it immediately, thrilled to find that it's old and full of interesting stories from all that it's seen. 

Its leaves rustle with countless years of anecdotes, stories that are happy, sad, and neither. Trees are too big for Yahaba's magic to influence them so all he can do is listen, and he is content to do so, his world growing a little bigger with each story he hears. It's good background noise as they unpack their belongings, and the tree's voice doesn't have a sound as much as a feeling, like an afternoon breeze through its branches. It's pleasant and Yahaba listens to as much as he can, soaking it in and feeling his heart settle a little in his chest. 

Yahaba shares his own stories, and he's learned to speak to plants with his magic instead of his voice, but Kyoutani knows him far too well and picks up on it anyway, grinning and teasing Yahaba for it. 

That is, until Yahaba catches him on the balcony with a hand full of seeds as he befriends the local birds. Yahaba laughs fondly as the tips of Kyoutani's ears turn pink, walking out onto the balcony as well, filling his cupped hand with seeds too.

A swallow hops onto his hand, its tiny beak tickling his palm as it pecks at the seeds. Beside him, Kyoutani is turning redder, the blush travelling down his neck and under his shirt. Yahaba raises an eyebrow at him, curious but too afraid of scaring the bird away to speak.

"The birds think you're cute," Kyoutani mumbles. "I think they've heard about us already. Birds like to gossip."

"That's adorable," Yahaba murmurs, smiling down at the second swallow that hops into his hand.

"You're just saying that because you can't actually understand them," Kyoutani tells him. "Trust me, it's really awkward sometimes. They don't even care if they're gossiping about you when they're right in front of you."

"I don't know what's worse," Yahaba chuckles. "Being gossiped about by birds, or being teased by flowers."

Kyoutani watches the birds leave once they've finished all the seeds, and leans over to kiss Yahaba's cheek. "Here, I thought having magic was meant to be cool."

"Hey, it can be cool sometimes," Yahaba replies with a small grin. His control over his magic has improved a little since high school and it means that he can show off a little. He asked Kyoutani to move out with him by writing the question into a flowerbed, coloured petals spelling the words out as they both stood there. Yahaba still remembers watching Kyoutani's reaction, remembers falling in love with the way Kyoutani all over again for the way he blushes with his entire body, from the tip of his ears and down. 

Yahaba is in love with all of Kyoutani, if he's being honest with himself. Besides, every time he's tried pretending otherwise, every bush he walks past stubbornly blooms with roses. Yahaba knows to pick his battles.

 

Making a home with Kyoutani is surprisingly easy. Their push and pull has long since settled into something comfortable and familiar. Their lives don't feel like a competition as much as a combination of their strengths and even that, though it was new and exhilarating when they realised it for the first time in their third year of high school, has new become something that happens without much thought.

Yahaba sets up a herb garden on their kitchen windowsill, coaxing basil and coriander and parsley to grow in their small boxes so that he can cook with them. Kyoutani waters them, clearly impressed with the way that they grow. They share cooking duties, experimenting with the ingredients they have on hand until they figure out what they like, settling for ordering food when it doesn't go as planned. 

There's a lot to learn and a lot more that they hadn't even anticipated having to learn, but they figure it out together. They've gotten pretty good a doing that.

Kyoutani doesn't buy flowers for Yahaba, but he sometimes come home with pot plants, pressing them into Yahaba's hands with a mumbled excuse as they flower with bluebells. Kyoutani's gotten better at understanding what the flowers mean; his book on Hanakotoba sits on their coffee table, the edges of the pages curling from how often he thumbs through it. Despite all the improvement Yahaba's made with his magic, he still can't hide how he's feeling and Kyoutani's gotten better at reading him, through his expression, through his plants.

That doesn't stop them from fighting, but it's not quite as explosive as it used to be, slower to escalate and quicker to blow over. Their steadily growing garden balcony blooms with hydrangeas, slowly turning to white camellias instead, until Yahaba finally apologises. When Kyoutani's the one at fault, he apologises with birdsong, with Yahaba's favourite birds sitting in the hanging bird feeders they have on their balcony now, before he puts his own apology into words.

The tree just outside their balcony watches it all, remarking on just how good they both are at getting under each other's skin, and Yahaba snorts out a quiet laugh into Kyoutani's hair.

"Are the plants making fun of us again?" Kyoutani asks, his arms still around Yahaba's waist, lips soft against his jaw. 

"The tree," Yahaba replies, nodding in its direction before he presses a kiss to Kyoutani's forehead. "Keeps comparing us to the other couples that it's seen. Apparently we fight the most."

"That a bad thing?" 

"No," Yahaba grins. "We make up the quickest. We fight like it's a game, apparently."

"Doesn't feel like a game when we're pissed at each other," Kyoutani mutters, but he tightens his grip on Yahaba. "The making up bit, though? That's fun."

Yahaba laughs, ignoring the way the plants around them are blooming with forget-me-nots and pulls Kyoutani inside.

"I was expecting cacti," Kyoutani murmurs against Yahaba's mouth, because he's learned what they mean now and become incredibly sharp at spotting them hidden between all the other flowers. "What are those blue ones?"

"Nothing," Yahaba mutters, shaking his head.

He knows it's no use when Kyoutani's going to look it up later, but he'll delay it for as long as he can because it's embarrassing. Roses are one thing. Roses are obvious. _This_ isn't, not to Kyoutani, and Yahaba doesn't really want a _flower_ to expose the depth of his love. He's made his home here with Kyoutani, with the flowers and the birds and everything else that finds its way into their lives, but it would be home without any of that, too. It would be home as long as he's with Kyoutani and maybe a little book on Hanakotoba won't be able to translate all of that, but that's what true love is to Yahaba. 

They go to bed, and thankfully Kyoutani's back is turned so he misses the way every pot plant on the balcony blooms with the same small, blue flowers. 

It's not until later, when they're lying in bed together and pressing kisses to the bite marks on each other's skin, that Yahaba clears his throat.

"Love you," he murmurs, because that's the easy part. He's said it to Kyoutani often enough that it doesn't scare him.

Kyoutani must pick up on Yahaba's uneasiness though, because he cocks his head and says, "But…?"

"But _nothing_ ," Yahaba mutters, nipping Kyoutani's lower lip. "It's not a bad thing, you know." 

"I know," Kyoutani replies, tracing a gentle line between Yahaba's eyebrows. "But you're frowning a bit, right here. Like you do when you're thinking too hard."

"Am I?" 

Kyoutani hums, shifting closer to kiss the same spot, between Yahaba's eyebrows. "There you go."

"I really love you," Yahaba breathes, taking Kyoutani's hand in his own. 

"I love you," Kyoutani replies, kissing Yahaba's lips this time, "the way the neighbourhood birds love gossiping about humans. The way your pot plants love making fun of you. The kind of love you don't really think about, you know? But then you do, and you realise how deep it runs and—"

"Kentarou," Yahaba cuts him off, kissing him hard, lips curved into a smile. "I was meant to be telling _you_."

"I thought you did," Kyoutani murmurs, rolling onto his back and pulling Yahaba on top of him. "I thought it was my turn to say I love you back. You know me. I like getting to the point, while you're still thinking too hard."

With a quiet laugh, Yahaba rests their foreheads together. "Yeah. Guilty."

They lie there in each other's arms for a moment, content to be close to each other.

"Forget-me-nots," Yahaba speaks up, linking his fingers with Kyoutani's.

"Hm?"

"The blue flowers on the balcony," Yahaba tells him. "True love."

Kyoutani hums, sounding content. "I've seen them before."

"When?"

"Here and there." Kyoutani strokes his fingers through Yahaba's hair. "Small ones, hidden in between bigger flowers. In the mornings when we're having coffee on the balcony. In the park bushes we walk past when we're on dates. Just one or two, in the beginning, but I kept seeing them more often."

Yahaba sighs, resting his head on Kyoutani's chest. "Figures. I didn't even realise."

"I didn't look them up," Kyoutani tells him. "Even though I knew it meant something. I could tell you weren't doing it on purpose and…"

"There are so many of them," Yahaba tells him. "Right now, on the balcony. You missed it because you had your back to them, but right now, every plant in our balcony garden has them."

"Oh," Kyoutani breathes. "I want to see."

"In the morning," Yahaba murmurs, nuzzling against Kyoutani. "They'll still be there. I don't really want to move."

With a quiet huff, Kyoutani's arms come around Yahaba. "Yeah. Me neither, actually. I just want to lie right here."

Tomorrow, Yahaba is probably going to be embarrassed by the sheer number of forget-me-nots on their balcony. For now, however, he shuts his eyes, his chest pressed to Kyoutani's, and falls asleep to their hearts beating together.


End file.
